


Beautiful Nightmare

by YourShadow



Series: Let Me See You Stripped Down To The Bone [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Master!Khan, Pet!Kirk, Sequel, Still not a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1514498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourShadow/pseuds/YourShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Sweet Dreams. He never said those three little words. Song by Beyonce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Say Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek it would look like this. JJ Abrams will die. You will all die. Oops wrong villain and movie. This is the only bit of humor you get, sorry.
> 
> Warning: Slavery, master/pet relationship, slash, implied non-con, attempted/implied suicide, major character death (again, sorry). Put your seat belts on kiddies, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.
> 
> Ya’ll knew it wouldn’t end there, don’t lie. I just had to do this, because of more dreams. Prepare yourselves for feels.

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

At first Kirk didn’t believe it. His crew, dead? No, Khan was lying, manipulating him. Denial had him pushing Khan away, anger made him lash out, but it did no good to stop the overwhelming acceptance he could feel creeping in. He knew all along his crew was dead. They would have come back for him, they would have sent him a message, and he would be with them right now if they were still alive. He was struggling with these thoughts for a while even before his master revealed the truth. It was only a matter of time before he started to believe it.

So why did he need to keep on living if there was nothing to live for?

Kirk stared at the knife in his hand, the one he used to cut up food he was preparing for dinner. A symbol of his enslavement and fallen status. He was cooking _dinner_ for _Khan_. The man who ruined his life, the man who owned him, the man who killed his crew.

The man he loved. The man who didn’t love him back.

He raised it to eye level, looking at his bleak reflection on the blade. Should he plunge it through his heart and stop the traitor beating madly behind his ribcage? Should he slit his throat, so Khan would never hear his voice again? No more screams or cries of defeat to utter, no more confessions of love, no more pleading whines. Should he carve his face, mar the beauty he was prized for, so he would be unrecognizable to whoever finds the body? Twist the serrated edge into his stomach, slashing his insides to make the figurative sickness become literal?

What was the most painful? What was the least painful?

Which one would Khan hate the most?

He gulped, took a deep breath, and made his decision. Right before he closed his eyes the blade picked up another reflection. He blinked, wishing it would go away. A dark figure stood behind him, steel eyes glaring out of the blade’s reflection. Kirk’s expression went from resolute to forlorn. The figure approached quietly and took the knife from his hand, which dropped to the counter, weightless. He wouldn’t meet Khan’s stare.

They said nothing to each other as Khan nudged his pet to the side and continued chopping the food himself. He glanced up once to give Kirk a knowing look, so the pet shrugged off his apron and trudged into the dining room, head in his hands when he sat down. Khan watched him for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face even though Kirk knew all too well how he felt. He finished the preparations and brought dinner, sliding it under Kirk’s bent form who straightened, before sitting near, still silent. Kirk slumped back in his chair, looking at the food with a blank face. Khan stared at him, eating, until Kirk picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of meat, bringing it to his lips and chewing. Khan gave an approving nod and went back to his food.

“I won’t allow you to commit suicide, you realize.” Khan finally spoke up later as they were preparing for bed.

“Why? What do you care?” Kirk mumbled, already laying on his side, facing away from his master.

“I don’t, but there is no point in throwing your life away now.”

Kirk grumbled something incoherent, refusing to acknowledge the tenderness he felt. He didn’t want to admit Khan was right. Suicide was such an easy way out of his situation, tempting, calling his name, but after everything he went through it would mean the ultimate defeat. He toyed with the idea, despite Khan’s insistence and interference, for a few more days. Brooding and sulking, he contemplated the benefits of death versus survival. On the one hand, he would finally be out of his misery. On the other hand…

_I’ll be the one, if you want me to_

He couldn’t deny his feelings, especially having already confessed. He loved Khan. He knew it was wrong, a psychological defect, but it was there. Sometimes he felt like being affectionate toward his master, who may have reciprocated once or twice, showing restraint and leniency. Idly, he wondered how Khan would react if he increased his affection. Would he turn from treating him as a pet to treating him as a lover? Would their dynamic change? Would Kirk be able to attain some sort of freedom?

While waiting for Khan to come home one night, he determined to test his theories, perform an experiment in lieu of another attempt at suicide. Kirk noted, painfully, how incensed Khan got every time he so much as _pretended_ to commit suicide. The punishment was more painful than the results were worth. If Khan didn’t want him to die, it was either because the superior being preferred to do it by his own hands or actually held some sort of compassion for his pet. Kirk would figure out which it was one way or the other.

He already noted that taking on a submissive, affectionate state allowed him to pacify Khan’s darker moods, as well as make it easier to get what he wanted. He was sure Khan knew what he was up to, but if it became a genuine, normal occurrence, what changes would they both see? The door opened and Kirk decided to find out.

“So what’s the damage today?” Khan sighed as he entered the room, greeted by a not-so-sullen looking pet and a chaste kiss on the cheek. He blinked, leaning back slightly with a confused expression. “What was that for? Switching tactics?”

Kirk shrugged, nuzzling him. “Glad you’re home.” he mumbled, not feeling very talkative just yet. He gave Khan the silent treatment throughout his suicidal phase, which irked his master to no end.

“Really? Are you hiding a knife in your pocket or just happy to see me?” Kirk blushed, jerking back with a sound of embarrassment. He scowled, to which Khan gave a sly smirk. Kirk found himself burying his head in Khan’s neckline again, a habit he picked up when frightened or ashamed. Khan gave a small chuckle, the sound distracting Kirk in the way the vibrations tickled his ear. “So are you feeling better now?” Khan’s tone was more serious, yet held concern. It was odd hearing it. He disengaged from their embrace to look into Kirk’s face, searching for any signs of the depression or betrayal he assumed would be coming.

Kirk was still upset about his crew’s death, still partly in denial of the obvious truth, and still psychologically unable to deal with the entire situation. If he blocked it out, pushed it to the far reaches of his mind and ignored it until he was in a place where he could take it out to analyze without losing his ever-loving mind, he would survive. He tried to think of a sincere answer to his master’s question, not wanting to anger the man and get off to a bad start. Tilting his head to the side as he thought over his feelings, Kirk ended up shrugging. His face was a mask, but held no trace of the obvious sorrow or anger he carried for the past few days.

Khan didn’t look like he believed his pet’s response, narrowing his eyes for a moment, but accepted it nonetheless. Kirk opened his mouth to ask why Khan was so worried about his welfare all-of-a-sudden, acting so strange when it came to suicide attempts, but quickly closed it. He refused to talk about it. The sound of his jaw snapping made Khan quirk his eyebrow in a questioning expression.

“So…how was your day?” Kirk eventually asked, keeping his voice level. Again Khan looked wary of his behavior. Kirk sighed and shook the numbness out of his limbs. “You were right. I just…realized that. So…” he couldn’t articulate what he was trying to do, not without making Khan suspicious. He hoped Khan would simply assume the reasoning behind his actions.

“I see.” Khan murmured. A new expression tweaked his features as he snaked an arm around Kirk’s waist and pulled him closer, putting a hand on the side of his face and into his hair. For some reason, Kirk noticed the amount of attention his master paid to his blond, short locks, always running his fingers through it or tugging it during sex. There was a slight challenge in his eyes when he paused, then closed in for a kiss. He met no resistance like normal, no hesitation or refusal to participate. In fact, Kirk reciprocated. It wasn’t the first time, but it was more enthusiastic than normal, resembling their first passionate hook-up. Kirk dared to run his own fingers through Khan’s hair and heard a slight noise of approval.

* * *

 

_Anywhere I would’ve followed you_

From then on, Khan was greeted with a kiss every night when he returned from work. Kirk’s personality fluctuated back to the version which most resembled his original nature, recovering from the shock and momentary lapse into the abyss he experienced after triggering moments. He acted more like a lover than a pet, flirting and teasing as if Khan were a bar girl.

“Hey hot stuff.” Kirk called as he passed, grinning. Khan rolled his eyes but made no move to scold him, intent on finishing his work for the night. It was when he received a slap on the ass and heard the giggling of his wayward pet as he ran down the halls that a grim expression overtook his features. He set the tube he was examining down and slowly turned to glare in Kirk’s direction.

“You’re going to pay for that.” He called back. Kirk snickered in response, hiding around the corner as he doubled over to laugh at his rash actions.

Later that night, when Kirk wasn’t paying attention, Khan took him from behind and bit his neck, a sensitive area which earned him a shriek as his pet squirmed. Khan held on, using his fingers to tickle the sides of Kirk’s stomach, another sensitive area. Hands scrabbled to pull him off as laughter followed shrieks, with Kirk kicking and flailing in his arms. Khan’s fingers slowed and slid under Kirk’s shirt, the laughter turning to moaning as he licked the bite wound.

“Okay, you win.” Kirk gasped, not struggling as much but still squirming under the touch.

“I always win.” Khan purred in his ear. He watched Kirk’s eyes flutter closed, sighing in a contented way with a small smile curling his lips. He catalogued it in the back of his mind. Just as quickly as Khan attacked, he let go of Kirk and continued to his intended destination, leaving his flustered pet behind.

* * *

 

Kirk wondered how far Khan’s own affections would go. He received soft kisses and light touches from time to time, but rarely was the man gentle with him. Khan never cared for the weakness of others and always did things at his own pace, whether Kirk could keep up or not. He didn’t forget about his own strength, he just never subdued it for his pet’s sake, not even as a reward. Kirk decided to change that soon. Even though Khan rarely joined him in bed because of his superior genetics—at least not for sleeping—Kirk would have to initiate the first move to get his message across.

He was nervous but determined as he approached Khan, facing away from him as he put his jacket into the closet. He placed a hand lightly on Khan’s waist and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. Khan paused, turning slightly. Kirk took the opportunity of having a better angle to nibble his master’s jawline, leaning into him. The man was always difficult to figure out, never showing his true emotions, so Kirk rarely went over his boundaries. This time would be slightly different if he didn’t start reciprocating. His master preferred to start any sexual advances, even though he was now used to Kirk being overly affectionate at times.

The pet nudged him with his nose, pulling Khan back against him, sliding his other hand underneath the dark shirt he wore and kneading the skin. Khan smirked, putting a hand over the one around his waist. “Do you want something?” he murmured. Kirk nipped at his ear in response, tugging his belt. Khan moved both their hands to the front of his belt, using Kirk’s fingers to unlatch it. “Is this it?” A trail of kisses went from the top of his neck to his shoulder. Kirk’s fingers slowly slid down, unbuttoning his master’s pants and slipping past the fabric. Khan hummed.

Then he spun, pinning Kirk to the bed so fast the pet was left disorientated and blinking. Khan gave him a devilish grin and leaned down for a proper kiss, mashing their lips together. Kirk made a disagreeing noise and his master leaned back, quirking an eyebrow. His pet tried to pull his wrist out of Khan’s grip, and upon succeeding lifted it to his master’s face. He gave a light kiss, again nuzzling the neck. Khan pushed him back down and dragged his teeth across Kirk’s throat, already removing his shirt and trousers. Despite the protests, he continued in his rough manner, going in dry and making Kirk yelp.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” There was no question in his tone, only accusation.

Kirk gasped, arching in pain, eyes squeezed shut. He shook his head slowly, pressing his knee into Khan’s hip to make him pull out. He tried again to make his desire clear, ripping his arms free and wrapping them around Khan’s shoulders to pull him down and into a softer kiss. He rolled his hips, rubbing his leg against Khan’s sensually. The master knew what his pet wanted even without the demonstration. He returned the soft kiss and moved in a slow, teasing way, earning a moan.

“Ahhh, you want me to be _gentle_?” Khan whispered. Kirk licked his lips, nodding. Khan was used to his silence when he was shy or embarrassed about something, noting the tinge of red on his pet’s cheeks. He smirked. “You could have told me.” he rumbled, licking the tendons of his throat where he bit before. Kirk arched again, inviting him, and sighed. He was already congratulating himself on his idea. If this was how it felt when Khan made love, he would never dream of leaving. His touch was light, lingering just above the skin, pushing in unbearably slow and pulling out just as deliberately. Kirk licked at Khan’s mouth, fingers digging into his scalp, to show his appreciation. His legs were wrapped around Khan’s hips, barely squeezing, body lifting to squish them closer together.

Suddenly Khan rammed in, clawing Kirk’s chest and biting his lip. His pet screamed, tensing and tightening his grip. “But I like to mix a bit of _pain_ with my pleasure.” The master purred. A whine was his reply, blue eyes pleading once more for mercy. Khan returned to his gentle ministrations, licking the blood from Kirk’s lip and feeling his pet relax beneath him. For his part, Kirk was doing everything to soothe the anger he assumed his master had toward him, kissing and nipping him. Khan continued switching the tempo, going from savage to tender, eliciting cries of pain and ecstasy. In the end Kirk was left exhausted and sore like normal, groaning and writhing beneath the sheets.

* * *

 

 _Say something, I’m giving up on you_  

He gave up on trying to seduce Khan’s compassionate nature, finally acknowledging the man probably didn’t have one. Instead he remained loving, expecting nothing in return, gradually getting used to expressing his feelings. He wasn’t sure if Khan noticed what it all meant, or if he even cared. He made it clear there was only lust between them, only accepting the amorous behavior of his pet as a form of obedience. At times he would push Kirk away, sending him a glare to show his disinterest. Kirk never pushed back.

He was mostly content in just resting his chin on Khan’s shoulder as he worked, falling asleep at one point in the position. Being near, barely touching, was enough to satisfy him. When it wasn’t, he made sure to let Khan know. Crawling into his lap, almost cat-like, he would interrupt him with a kiss. Khan would sigh, pulling him aside and continuing to work. Pouting, his pet would lick and kiss his neck, sometimes biting his ear to get his attention, running his hands up Khan’s shirt. Unfortunately, the augment was better at controlling his baser instincts.

But not always. Sometimes, he gave an unexpected response.

Kirk was straddling one of Khan’s hips after being pushed away, messing with his master’s hair and biting his jaw, when he received an elbow to the gut. He grunted but continued, less adamant now but still seeking attention. He searched for sensitive spots on his lover’s body, but got no reaction except for a hiss to stop. Kirk let out another whine and kissed him on the cheek. Khan finally sighed, giving a slight smile.

“Yes, yes, love you too, but I’m working right now.”

Once the words left his mouth they both paused. A wide grin was spreading across Kirk’s face as Khan chuckled sardonically to himself, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his face. He pushed his hair back, combing through it with his fingers. Kirk took the opportunity to change position, sitting directly in Khan’s lap and kissing him while his hands were still in his hair. Khan didn’t respond, instead lowered his hands to push Kirk roughly, slamming his back into the edge of the table. Kirk winced, hissing, and arched his back to relieve the pressure. Khan hated how the sight of his pet like that aroused him.

“Leave. Now.” He growled. Kirk’s face fell, wounded. He got up when Khan moved his chair back to give him room, trudging out of the office. He looked back to see his master taking a deep breath, eyes closed, back straight. His mouth quirked up, a new plan forming in his mind.

When Khan was done for the night, finally feeling his body ache for rest, he went to their shared room. He expected his pet to already be asleep, but when he opened the door a bare, outstretched form greeted him. Kirk lay on top of the sheets, hands beneath his head, leg propped up, grinning. He wiggled his eyebrows and chuckled at Khan’s exasperated expression. The master covered his face with both hands, and Kirk liked to think it was out of his own embarrassment.

* * *

 

_And I will stumble and fall_

Kirk sat staring at his master, listening to him speak and smiling absently. He wasn’t even sure what Khan was saying, having asked to tell him a story or some other nonsense, he just focused on the sound of his voice. It was soothing, somehow, despite the danger lurking beneath the surface of his tone, the acidic quality it took when he was angry, or the coldness seeping out. To Kirk’s ears, it was a symphony. His hearing was still so sensitive after the gurgles and robotic commands from his previous master, and even before he was a slave, Kirk had to admit the man’s voice captivated him.

Khan caught him staring, seeming entranced and barely paying attention, and smirked. “And so then I slit his throat. Quite the sound one makes when vocal chords are cut, like a _gurgle_ almost, from the bubbles of blood in the vessels popping.” He said to see if Kirk would react. When he paused, Kirk nodded slowly for him to keep going. His lips twitched into a cruel smile. He knew his pet enjoyed hearing him speak.

What was also obvious was how much he enjoyed hearing Kirk as well. He was less vocal than ever before, instead sometimes going an entire day without speaking or making a sound. Other times he would whine and moan, sounding animalistic and childish. Then there were the days when Kirk spoke to him, saying anything he wanted to hear. But what Khan loved the most was hearing Kirk _scream_. Whether it was out of pain or pleasure, the pitch and hoarse quality to his pet’s voice elated him as it ripped from his throat.

“The tendons wiggled about, almost like… _tentacles_.” Khan added, locking eyes. He could pinpoint the exact moment Kirk registered the words, because those bright irises turned dull as he shut down. He watched as Kirk’s smile vanished and he sat up, slowly, uncomfortably. Khan leaned toward him. “You just want to hear me speak, don’t you?” His pet looked like a lost puppy, staring at him with those pale eyes and pouting lips. Khan realized he was condemned to silence now. “Well at least pay attention. I prefer conversation.”

He waited, but his pet wouldn’t speak. Instead he stood to leave. “Where are you going?”

Kirk was adept at using body language to communicate. Khan learned the language well and responded in kind. His pet’s tense stance accompanied by that pitiful expression confirmed his suspicions of the mute phase. Khan leaned back against his chair, eyes hard, swiveling to the vacant seat pointedly. Kirk took a step away, as if about to walk down the hall. Khan’s index finger raised to indicate the empty chair again. A subtle shake of the head, followed by a trembling lip, was his response. His pet took another tentative step, wary yet hopeful. Khan glared at him, holding him in place.

“You can’t be so sensitive all the time.”

And you can’t always be cruel. That’s what those blue eyes told him, darkened and tired. Kirk shifted, looking down and taking another step away. He kept walking when Khan made no move to stop him.

“So be it. You want to play this game, I’ll play as well.” Khan growled to himself. It was foolish for Kirk to think he could refuse his master anything, especially the act of speaking. Khan understood when his pet simply couldn’t speak because the words jumbled in his head, or his emotion only allowed for small noises, or when he just didn’t feel like talking. He understood it begrudgingly, rarely forcing his pet beyond that small comfort, because those rare moments of clarity were worth it. But if he was going to withhold this small comfort, Khan would do the same. Silence was what broke his pet the first time, and he was determined for it to break him again.

_I’m still learning to love_

The air was tense as their silent treatment towards each other continued. The other slaves grew nervous, skittering around the two and waiting for the bomb to drop. Khan used his eyes to command, and Kirk used his to submit, but they never uttered a sound to each other. No matter what Khan did to his pet, he remained mute. He had the uncanny ability to simply close his throat, choke around the screams or moans, shut down his vocal chords just as easily as his mind. His lips remained downturned, clenched tight.

Khan didn’t hum or growl like he usually did to show his pet appreciation or irritation. He noticed how Kirk looked at him sorrowfully, desperately wanting him to speak, but was determined to deny his master all the same. They ate in silence, silverware clinking against the dishes, every other sound heightening.

Khan tried playing music to get his pet to sing along, but Kirk just turned away. He refused to be gentle when he touched his pet, handling him roughly to leave bruises and blood behind, but still no screams were uttered. It only increased his anger to the point where Khan would do _anything_ to make his pet make a sound. Surprising him out of nowhere to catch him when his guard was down, using old torture techniques to elicit a sound. Kirk held on, nothing but wheezing gasps and tears escaping his reserve.

For his part, Kirk tried to soothe his master’s anger. He didn’t want to give up, but he wanted Khan to understand how important it was for him to share his voice, how much it needed to mean, and how it shouldn’t be taken for granted. He also missed the sound of Khan. No matter what it was: a stern command, a gentle hum, a small chuckle, even yelling in a furious rage was preferable to this stone cold silence. Kirk thought he was going deaf, sometimes turning on the TV or hovering near the other slaves to catch a snippet of conversation. He feared he was beginning to lose himself again and tried to make Khan see. He would kiss him, hug him, cling to him, but was only pushed away. It made him cry when he was alone, and not even then did he vocalize his emotions.

Khan got creative. He took Kirk’s plate of food away one night before they sat down for dinner, putting it in the freezer, forcing his pet to sit and watch him eat. Kirk’s eyes were pained, laying his head on his hands. When he closed his eyes or tried to look away, Khan kicked him underneath the table. Not even a hiss or whine, just a hitch of breath. Khan watched him swallow the sounds down. For once, he thought he wouldn’t be able to win.

Kirk began fighting back. He bit Khan hard enough to draw blood, despite the aching pain his teeth endured to pierce the hard skin. He clawed at him, kicking and punching, but was too weak to cause any serious damage. The realization that Khan was purposefully weakening him by withholding food and keeping him up late every night sickened him. Sooner or later, he wouldn’t have the energy to hold back, would be unable to keep the sounds locked up within him, would be caught off guard and lose the fight.

It only took one altercation. One physical fist fight—the first in what seemed like, and could very well be, years—to declare the winner. The sound of bones cracking, blood splattering, and skin slapping skin were joined by a muffled cry as Kirk hit the floor. Stunned, drained, barely even alive, he couldn’t stop the groaning as he tried to get away. His body moved sluggishly, barely an inch, drawing a knee up to push against the floor, his fingers grasping for purchase. He slumped back down, vision blurring and losing color, limbs numb and paralyzed. He couldn’t utter a word, but the strangled sounds of defeat still slipped past his barriers to pass over his lips.

Khan felt it was a hollow victory. He would never admit it, but he was more angry at himself than his pet. That was why he picked Kirk up off the floor and carried him to the medical staff, hovering nearby as the doctor worked. That was why he leaned down to press his lips close to Kirk’s ear and whispered “I’m sorry.”

_Just starting to crawl_

* * *

 

Kirk returned to a sense of normalcy after a while. He could get used to this type of life, he could feel it. There was no chance of escape now. How long had it been?

Khan took him out more and more, bringing him to his work at the market and letting him sit in during meetings. They would go into the city on special occasions, whether for dinner or entertainment, and it felt like home. Kirk allowed himself to think maybe this was his life now, maybe if things kept going this way everything would be okay. Maybe he could survive.

So it was by sheer luck that a Starfleet vessel happened to spot the planet during a time when Kirk was with Khan at the market. Having already planned two rescue missions and failed, they recruited extra help for this return. The alien species had no chance against the force brought to investigate the system after losing numerous Federation members who were sent this way, let alone the mass amounts of humans who were steadily disappearing over the years.

It was also sheer luck that Kirk got away from Khan during the massive fight between the native slavers and the Federation ships, who dispatched highly trained officers without so much as a warning. One minute it was a normal day, the master and pet sitting together during a meeting, and the next minute explosions rocked them from their positions, sending debris flying and wounding those nearby. Kirk was blown away, startled yet slightly hopeful. He knew this day would come. After all, he was sent to this place to find out why no one ever came back, and if Khan truly killed his crew then Starfleet would have no choice other than to mount a full-on deployment to end the mystery.

In all the confusion—aliens running around being chased by members of Starfleet, humans escaping their captors, and dead bodies littering the hallways—Kirk drifted apart from his master. He couldn’t pass up the possibility that he might just be saved. It was desperate, irrational, but he knew he had to try. This was his last chance. He would find a way to rejoin society, he would survive away from this planet and its tortures, or die trying.

Coming across a group of gold shirts, the color brought back many memories of sitting in a captain’s chair, training at the academy, walking around on his starship a free man. He sighed, smiling in relief, and approached.

“I’m so glad to see you guys, thank you for coming.” He said, elated.

The one who seemed in charge of this group came up to him. “Were you trapped here? We were sent to rescue a number of officers who wound up lost around this area and discovered what these bastards were doing.”

Kirk nodded. “Yeah, I was sent here…” he paused, trying to remember how many years he was stuck here. “Well, I was sent to rescue people as well, but had no idea what I was getting into. I wish I had the wherewithal to bring an army with me.” he answered.

“What’s your name, son?”

_And I will swallow my pride_

Kirk’s throat closed up. Those words reminded him so much of Pike it pained him. He didn’t deserve the term of endearment. This was it. He would have to reveal himself, what he was, what he had become, and face the consequences. Straightening, but with a subdued expression, he replied truthfully. “Former Captain James Tiberius Kirk, of the USS _Enterprise_.”

The group greeted him with silence. The battle around them seemed to dim as they stared. Kirk braced himself, breathing hard, clenching his fists.

“My…god…” the man before him breathed, taking a step back and looking him up and down with startled eyes. “We thought you were dead. You…I’m sorry, but the rest of your crew…the _Enterprise_ …”

“I know.” He choked out, looking away and swiping at his face to wipe away the tears, pretending it was dust from the fighting. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know. I can tell you everything about this place.” He offered.

The man nodded. “We know a lot more than you did, son.” Again Kirk flinched, but the man didn’t notice. “We also heard a notorious criminal was hiding out here, working with these monsters to enslave the human race. Guess it was the same as killing us all off to him.” He spat. Kirk knew who he was talking about and prayed they wouldn’t come across Khan. He wanted to get out before the man knew, lost forever, and never see him again. The leader’s expression softened. “Do you know who killed your crew? The man we’ve been chasing across the galaxy? You met him yourself once, a long time ago. Is Khan really here?”

Kirk suddenly didn’t want to tell them. What did he promise so long ago? He said if Khan let him free, no one would ever know of the superior being’s involvement, he would be left alone, free to do whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t cause trouble. Did their agreement still stand? He struggled with himself over the decision to tell them the truth or feign ignorance. If he told them yes, he would have to explain why and how he knew it, and what exactly his function was. He would have to tell them of his humiliation, of being owned and manipulated, tortured and abused by Khan. Unable to seek revenge for the death of his crew and his own enslavement. Weak, inferior, unworthy.

But if he told them no, would they eventually find out and ask why he lied? Would Khan escape their grasp, leaving him behind and never interfering with his life again? Or would Khan go after him, refusing to give him up all for the sake of revenge? Did he _want_ to protect Khan, or save his own skin? Would they be able to detain him, bring him to trial, and finally sentence him to death? There would be no other way for Khan’s fate to play out. They would have to kill him. Would Kirk be able to live with himself if that occurred?

“I can tell you’re distressed at the moment. Just come with us, we’ll get you to safety with everyone else, captain.”

Kirk nodded automatically, following the officers to a triage center set up on the outskirts of the market.

 _You’re the one that I love_  

Kirk was attended to by the medical personnel but assured them he was fine, directing them to instead focus on the seriously injured. There was a steady stream of human slaves being brought into the camp and sent to the medical tent, the area flooded with people who never thought they’d see freedom ever again. He knew people were being transported to the ships above in small groups, but there were too many slaves for one vessel to hold and too much confusion to organize them.

He left the medical tent, reminded too much of his own CMO, Doctor Leonard “Bones” McCoy, to sit there without sobbing to himself. He walked around the camp, attempting to block out his past. Several times he was directed to stay in one place, to remain with the others, but he couldn’t look at them. Most of them knew who he was, _what_ he was, and despite their happiness at being rescued they still looked at him as if he were a traitor. He felt like one for some reason, for submitting so easily, for showing his face around the market without so much as a sympathizing gaze. He would always look away, pretend he didn’t know what was going on. A selfish monster. He knew he couldn’t save them, so he didn’t even try.

Now that things were different, he couldn’t stand to be around them, to be reminded of his position. He wanted to be part of the rescue party, he wanted to go back in time and do his mission all over again, save them instead of becoming one of them. It hurt him to think he failed and was the one needing saving, and he didn’t even try that hard in the first place. 

* * *

 

There was a commotion and he was drawn to it. Picking up the pace and using the distraction of extra humans around to snag a uniform shirt lying unattended, he slipped through the crowd and came upon the scene of Khan’s capture.

“We caught him among the rubble. Should we just kill him now? We need to focus on getting these people out of here and knocking down this entire slave trade.” An officer said as he stood near the criminal, surrounded by guards and handcuffed. There was some blood on him, clothes ripped, as if he were hurt. Kirk’s eyes widened as he peered from around the corner. They were in part of the crumbling market now, having commandeered this space, and Kirk noticed the cells nearby where the slaves were put on display.

“No, he needs to stand trial. He needs to answer for his deeds. It’s what that boy would have done.” The leader answered.

“No offense, but that boy _did_ bring Khan to trial and he was just put to sleep again. We can’t risk another escape. This needs to end here and now.” The first officer replied angrily. Khan remained calm, still, and uncaring. Kirk remembered it from his first capture. Memories came back, visceral and unending.

They were talking about him, as if he were dead, as if he wasn’t among the rescued slaves.

“I understand, but with this new evidence he’ll be sure to die by the council’s hands. If mass murder wasn’t enough, working with these atrocious beasts and destroying that ship should do it.”

Kirk breathed hard, trying to keep himself under control. His heart was pumping wildly beneath his chest, painfully, as he watched for what they would do next.

“How do you know he won’t sabotage this whole thing on the way back?”

“Put him in a cell for now, we’ll deal with him later. That’s an order.”

“But sir!”

“ _That’s an order_!” the leader roared. The men around him flinched and he sighed, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to his head. “Captain James T. Kirk inspired me to join Starfleet, inspired me to be a captain, and inspired me to bring this man to justice. I will not let his memory be defiled, nor will I let him down now.”

Kirk couldn’t move. Was that man really talking about _him_? He opened his eyes, realizing they were squeezed shut, to look at Khan’s face. He was staring at the leader intensely, curious…pained. Even though he appeared in control and calm in front of the guards, Kirk could tell by his body posture that he was the complete opposite. His arms trembled slightly, mouth tight, jaw clenched, eyes burning. It took a moment for Kirk to think maybe Khan believed him dead with the way they were speaking. He wanted to rush forward, hug the man, damn the man, tell him he was okay, everything would be okay. But it was a lie.

 _And I’m saying goodbye_  

Kirk watched as they put Khan in one of the glass enclosures for viewing, keeping his face hidden and making sure the guards didn’t realize he was there. When they left, one man remaining to watch over the prisoner, he made a noise outside the door and hid in a hallway as the guard came running out. Kirk slipped inside and closed the door before the guard returned. As he approached, the reflection of his gold shirt shown off the glass barrier separating himself from Khan.

Here they were, back at the beginning.

Khan turned quickly, walking toward the glass and putting a hand on it, wanting to touch his pet. He looked like maybe he was about to cry, or had been crying, but quickly arranged his features into a calmer expression. Kirk was alright, so he had no need to worry anymore. It relaxed him, made it easier to handle his situation. But the expression his pet presented unnerved him. He looked so much like the young captain who first put him in a brig. They stared at each other in silence for a long time, but both knew it wouldn’t last. If this was to be their final conversation, they would have to make it quick.

Even though Kirk was relieved, he was resilient in maintaining freedom. Before Khan could speak, he quickly voiced everything he ever wanted to say. “This is the end, Khan. I’m going back to Earth, I may even join Starfleet again. I’m going back to my life.”

“You’ll let them take me.” Khan stated.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“I thought we had an agreement.”

“Yeah, so did I.”

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

They stared each other down. No matter how hard Kirk wanted to walk away, he couldn’t. He still had honor, and he still loved this man more than anything. He was tempted to release him, but was interrupted when the guard slammed through the door.

“Sir, you shouldn’t be here. He’s dangerous!” the redshirt called, grabbing his arm. “No one is allowed in here, you’ll have to leave.” Kirk let himself be dragged away, never breaking eye contact with Khan until the doors shut between them. He hoped it would be the last time he ever saw those cold steel eyes.

* * *

 

Shouts of alarm sounded only a few hours later. According to the reports from the landing parties, the planet was practically destroyed due to the fighting which took place over the slaves and their rescue. The natives fought back, choosing to bring them all down instead of lose their livelihood—by setting off a mass explosion inside the market. It was the single most vicious act Kirk ever heard of them doing. Crumbling apart, burning, about to implode, there was nothing else to do except escape while they still could. People were being transported onto ships in large numbers.

Kirk ran through the deteriorating building toward Khan’s cell.

_And I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you_

When he arrived, even the guards had fled. They stared at each other once again, picking up their conversation from earlier.

“Decided to release me after all?” Khan asked, voice smooth, but not smooth enough to hide an underlying tremor.

“No. I can’t let you win this time, Khan.” Kirk replied. The building shook and Kirk could feel the heat of fires nearby.

“You know I can escape from here on my own.” his expression was false containment, one Kirk could see right through as he tried to convince his pet.

“I know.”

“What about Starfleet? If they find me again, they’ll kill me.”

“I’ll get over it, trust me.” Kirk replied harshly. His nails dug into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fist.

“You’re just going to leave me here to die?” Khan hissed. When Kirk didn’t answer right away, he continued in a more restrained tone. “Surely you’ll miss me, won’t you?”

“I will get over it.” Kirk enunciated slowly. The silence between them was deafening. “Just say one thing, and I’ll join you.” He breathed.

_And anywhere I would’ve followed you_

Khan clenched his jaw. “You know I can’t. I am incapable of love.”

“You just don’t want to give up on your revenge.” Kirk snapped.

“I’m not going to lie just to save myself. It is _beneath_ me.” Khan glared back at him, standing in that predatory manner, muscles tense. He refused to back down, to give up, because of one little emotion standing in the way. His crew was depending on him, there was a larger plan in action. He needed to stick to it.

Kirk could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He was so angry and so scared, wanting to stay with Khan yet yearning for his freedom. If only the man would say those three little words he always wanted to hear, if only he reciprocated what Kirk so openly gave him. It didn’t have to end this way.

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

“Then I have no choice.” He said and began to walk away.

Khan stared at him from inside the glass as the building began to fall apart, lights dimming and sputtering out, the ceiling crashing down around him. Only the spotlight remained until it, too, faded.

_Say something, I’m giving up on you_

Kirk ran to the camp, joining one of the last groups of survivors as they were beamed on-board one of the starships above. Once they materialized, he felt the ship’s thrusters lurch forward as they launched to escape the planet’s impending death, lest they be damaged in its wake.

Stumbling along the hall, he found a window and stared out of it, watching his former home explode with Khan still on it.

_Say something…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: I accept the award of world’s worst person ever. Thank you (bows). Okay but in all honesty you can hold back those tears because you’ll need them for the next chapter. Yes my lovelies, there’s more~


	2. No Light, No Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Still nope.
> 
> Warning: Triggers for major character death and heart-wrenching moments of sorrow. Implied abuse, non-con, etc.
> 
> Gonna do this chapter a little different with the lyrics. They’ll be grouped together instead of one line at a time, and have been slightly chopped up. It’ll make sense. Trust me.

_You are the hole in my head_  
 _You are the space in my bed_  
 _You are the silence in between_  
 _What I thought and what I said_

Kirk couldn’t stop thinking about what he did as the starship flew across space, returning to Earth with the rescued humans who would never be whole again. The crew tried to make them feel comfortable, assimilate back to reality, but the slaves needed more time. Was this a dream? A hallucination? What new hell was this, to be given freedom so suddenly? Was that planet truly destroyed, along with its cruel inhabitants?

The crew noticed the looks the slaves gave former captain James Kirk. He was separate from them, distinctly different. A traitor. He grieved for Khan and they hated him for it. The starship captain tried to get him to explain why, holding private conferences in his quarters, sitting with him during meals, treating him like part of the crew. It was odd, being treated as an equal after everything he went through, after what he did. The captain tried to ignore it, but even he could see the unsettling tremors racking the slaves.

Kirk didn’t speak on the way back to Earth. He took the time to prepare himself, acclimate himself, give his mind the right to live through his horrors and sort them out. By the time they arrived, he was ready to tell his story. At least, he hoped he was. His crew was gone, his ship was gone, and he was gone. There was nothing left of him, but he persevered. He had to, in order to honor their memories, to honor what they fought so desperately for, and to make up for his betrayal.

A tribunal was called shortly after the dust settled, with Starfleet ambassadors deeming him the only one qualified to explain exactly what happened on that slave planet. They tried talking to some of the other slaves and got nowhere. Either they didn’t remember, or refused to. No matter how much he thought he was ready, he knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“Look, we all know this was a difficult time for everyone involved. We understand there are some things you don’t want to tell us or can’t explain. We know the basic concept of what went down, but…a first-hand account…we need to know what these people went through. You’re the only one who can tell us, captain.” The admiral explained. They were all sitting in a circle, looking at Kirk expectantly. The captain who saved him, who looked up to him, sat closest to him. He gave a reassuring expression, squeezing his shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Kirk began. “The _Enterprise_ was charged to investigate the disappearances of Starfleet ambassadors who were missing for several years. We located their last known coordinates and stumbled upon…the planet.” The planet he refused to call by name, distancing himself from the horror. He never saw Ambassador Riley again, the one person whose name he would always remember but never truly know, the one person who could have empathized with him. Who knows, maybe she would’ve thought him a traitor as well. He assumed she was dead, hoped she wasn’t still living in that hell. “My crew was ambushed and I found myself among the enemy, made into a slave for the market. To this day, I do not remember the events leading up to that moment. I had no idea what happened to my crew and what was going on. We had no information of these operations and assumed the area was deserted. From that point on…”

He realized then it was the last time he ever saw his crew, gave them a command, or saw a friendly face smiling back at him. He didn’t even remember what his last words were to them. Did he tell Spock to stay behind and take over should he fail? Did he give Bones a hard time for wanting to protect him from the unknown dangers of a mystery planet? Did Uhura beg to come along in order to communicate with any alien species? What were the last words Scotty uttered in his tantalizing accent? When was the last time Chekov chirped out “Keptin on ze bridge!” as he entered through the doors?

It was so fast, the way it happened, the life he thought he knew ripped away from him.

“You don’t have to go into detail, son.” The admiral prompted.

Kirk looked down, closing his eyes as he struggled to keep his composure. He couldn’t think of his crew now. The tribunal was waiting, staring at him warily, as if he would break just like the rest of the slaves. But you couldn’t destroy what was already broken. Should he tell them everything? About Tentacles, about Khan, about his escape attempts which only left him in despair?

_You are the night-time fear_  
 _You are the morning when it's clear_  
 _When it's over you will start_  
 _You're my head, you're my heart_

“You said you know what was going on, sir. I want to tell you what you _don’t_ know.” Kirk finally spoke up. He was resolute this time. “I stumbled upon Ambassador Riley, one of the missing Federation members I was sent to find.” The group looked on intently, listening with stunned expressions. “She was not hopeful about escape, nor did she believe she would ever integrate back into normal human society. Some advice was shared before we were separated. It was the first and last time I ever saw her. I never made contact with any of the others. Due to my knowledge of the slave market system, they were most likely sold off to multiple alien species, scattered throughout the galaxy, and are most likely, at this point, dead. The survival rate was low, depending on which master a slave was sold to.”

They looked uncomfortable, shifting in their seats. Some were taking notes, but stopped to put a hand over their mouths. Faces drained of blood, hands shaking, they had no way to measure the depth of true pain without first-hand experience. Kirk kept on speaking, afraid to stop and be silenced forever.

“I met Khan there.” Gasps and shocked expressions met his determined features. “I questioned his presence on a planet so far away from our system after having supposedly been put back into cryosleep. When he didn’t explain, I asked him for aid because of our shared history, but he refused. I was sold off to—,”

“There’s no need to explain—,” one officer began, holding up a hand. He looked ill.

“You knew Khan was there the whole time? You tried to _ally_ with that bastard?!” another shouted, rising.

“—an alien species I had no previous encounters with, nor would I care to see that race again—,” Kirk continued despite the commotion.

“Calm down, please, and let him speak his testimony.” The captain beside him urged.

“—and was subjected to unspeakable horrors no human should ever have to encounter. I was left nearly mute and beyond broken, physically as well as mentally, and to this day I cannot handle the sight of any tentacled creature, nor can I handle the sound of gurgles or robotic voices.”

The ferocity with which he spoke silenced the protestations. They stared at him, open-mouthed. He was clenching the hat he was given when issued a new uniform, breathing hard, knuckles white.

“It was Khan who rescued me.” he looked up at the man who was shouting, glaring him down. No one commented on the eerie similarity between his cold eyes and Khan’s. “He had been waiting for the right moment, because he was a member of the committee who ran the slave market with some influence over them. He bought me from my former owner, as per our agreement.”

They looked frightened and alarmed at his anger. They assumed it was directed at Khan. They were wrong. “You may think he’s a monster, just as bad as those… _creatures_ , but if it weren’t for him I would be dead by now. He wasn’t always the nicest master, but I grew to care for him. So don’t you _dare_ speak ill of him in my presence.” His teeth were clenched, voice a growl, eyes startling vicious. There was silence for a moment and he took the time to compose himself again, surprising even himself with the emotions associated with such a terrible time in his life.

“I did try to escape, multiple times, but their security prevented any such incursions. Again, Khan allowed me to live because of the sway he held over them. He took me to the market with him, he let me see the city, and I became known as his pet.” He took a deep breath. “That’s why the other slaves act differently around me. I never once tried to help them, never once tried to stop what was going on. Because I _couldn’t_. Even though Khan and I were on relatively good terms, he would have never helped me. He had his own plan and refused to deviate from it.”

Kirk told them everything. They didn’t like it, but he spoke anyway, to the point where some of them grew sick and had to leave. It was painful to tell it all, even more painful to see their reactions, but he promised himself he would get it all out and let them judge him later. He was prepared for the consequences.

He was already dead inside, what more could they possibly do to him?

* * *

  _And I'd do anything to make you stay_

_Tell me what you want me to say_

Khan opened his eyes. The space next to him on the bed was empty. He arose, getting dressed and ready for the new day, before exiting his quarters. The swoosh of the door reminded him of home. Walking down the corridors, he nodded to members of his crew, happy to see their faces flushed with color instead of frozen within a cryotube. He strode onto the bridge with a purpose, admiring the detail of the consoles. This was where he belonged.

“Ready when you are, sir.” His first officer told him, handing over a PADD. Khan accepted it, looking over the final procedures check-off list as he sat in the captain’s chair.

It was all part of the plan. With those silly little aliens out of the way, thanks to Starfleet, he was able to awaken his crew and prepare the newly restored _Vengeance_ for its destined purpose. Biding his time on that planet, allying himself with the slavers, was the only way to ensure his crew’s survival. The ship was slightly damaged due to the planet’s eruption, despite being tucked away within a neighboring asteroid belt, but it was nothing his crew couldn’t handle. It was the best feeling in the world to be sitting in this chair, watching his crew work like they used to do, knowing nothing would get in their way this time.

There was just one small issue to take care of first, one part of the plan added later when he escaped the planet’s death.

“All sections prepare for launch. Destination: Earth.” He commanded. His crew nodded in acknowledgement, getting into position. The pilot pushed on the throttle, and the starship went warp.

* * *

_Through the crowded islands crying out at me_  
 _In your place there were a thousand other faces_

Kirk was given the choice to be reinstated as an acting captain, with a new ship and crew—under the condition that he go through therapy to assess his state of mind and ability to captain another ship—or become a civilian. He struggled for months—keeping a close eye on the time flying by, several calendars adorning his new home—on the decision. It wouldn’t be the same with a new ship and crew, he would never be able to bond with these people the way he did with the members of his _Enterprise_ , but it was all he knew. When Christopher Pike told him to join the Federation, he was stuck in the middle of Iowa with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Going back now would be a waste. He would wither away in those corn fields, unable to face his mother’s harsh gaze. Starfleet was his home.

“You’ve had a hard life.”

Kirk glanced up slowly at the person chosen to ascertain his mental preparedness for reality. A stoic, controlled face. Penetrating eyes. Steady hands. Someone who knew what pain meant, but never had the satisfaction to endure it.

“Is that supposed to be a question or a statement.” He replied.

A quirk of those thin lips betrayed the psychiatrist. “You seem very…well-adjusted, despite what you survived.”

“Who said I survived.” Kirk bit out, voice like gravel. He stared back into that calculating gaze, watching the cogs work in the man’s brain as it tried to figure him out. He wasn’t trying to be difficult, but he wasn’t going to hide anything, either. It wouldn’t benefit either of them if he pretended to be fine after all this time.

“Physically, your health is superior to that of the other slaves. Your records show a more energetic background, one which you have not yet reached after your rescue, but I can only assume you are doing far better than when you were in captivity.”

“You say that as if I were an animal in a zoo.”

“Were you ever caged?”

Kirk swallowed. Flashes of the market, of the enclosures the newly acquired slaves were put in to show off to potential buyers.

A less amused, more empathetic expression crossed the therapist’s face. “I see.” He wrote something in the device perched atop his lap. “I apologize for triggering anything. I only heard rumors. You must understand, I need to know what happened to you in order to assess, and therefore, help you.”

“I’ll tell you everything, if you can keep your stomach.”

An almost condescending smile, hiding a spark of fascination, was the other man’s reply. “I’ve heard many things in my time. You think you’re the only person to go out into space and come back scarred?”

“No. I’ve seen damage among my crew, and others. I know I’m not special in that sense.”

“But it was a certain kind of hell you lived through, wasn’t it?”

Kirk nodded. A little bit of heaven, a little bit of hell, a jumbled mess of chaos in the whole. His experience was indeed unique, as were his worries, but he was no fool to think he was the only one who felt pain.

“They want me to determine if you are unscathed,” the therapist said after a moment. “Of course, we both know the scars you carry. What we don’t know is whether you can hide them well enough to do your duty, or are healed enough to carry on.” Eyebrows raised in expectation. “Do you know the answer to this question?”

Kirk knew. He wasn’t ready, and would never be. What was done couldn’t be erased, forgiven, or forgotten. It would plague him unto his death bed. It would haunt him in dreams, waking moments of memories, and in every living thought within his head.

“What do you think?” Kirk asked.

“I think you are strong.” The therapist paused. “However, I also believe you are broken. A damaged thing can be repaired, but only if it wants to be. Sometimes shattered goods are strengthened in the aftermath—what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and all that—but sometimes the material is no longer malleable, and needs help if it is to regain what it once was.”

“Do you think I can ever be repaired?”

“Do you want to?” the therapist countered. “You’ve tried, I can see it. You may not be the same James T. Kirk whispered about by new and old Starfleet members, but you act like it. Clinging to what you once knew has saved your life, preserved your sanity, but you are barely hanging on by a thread. You need more than just pretending.”

“And what do you suggest?” Kirk asked. He wondered if this person could truly help him, or if he was a lost cause. It was true, he fought hard to claw his way back from the abyss, but he wasn’t at the top just yet. There was still some work to do.

“Try just living. Feel what you need to feel. Breathe. Let yourself deal with your trauma, don’t fight it or dismiss it. The only way to pull this off is to combat your fears, slay your demons, and put it all to rest on your own terms.”

“That doesn’t sound like any therapy I’ve heard of before. So, no shock treatments, no hypnotizing, no ink blots?”

“You’ve had enough shock therapy for more than one lifetime, Jim.” The man said softly. There was sympathy in his eyes. “I am not going to force you. I’m not going to do anything. You can talk to me, if you want. We can stare at each other, or blank walls, for hours on end. You can retreat within yourself to do battle, forge a castle within your mind and find shelter there. _You_ will be doing all the work, not I. I dare not take credit for any progress you make, aside from a slight push in the right direction.”

Stunned, yet relieved, Kirk let out a deep breath. This was exactly what he needed.

And he hated the man for giving it to him.

* * *

_I was disappearing in plain sight_

_Heaven help me I need to make it right_

While things never truly got back to normal, he found himself slowly relaxing back into his role as captain. His duties rarely involved away missions, instead he attended meetings with the ambassadors to aid them in finding new galaxies and planets to explore, gathering intelligence reports on each new alien race encountered. No one pointed out how unique his information was, having dealt with some of these species within the slave market. No one said anything about his past. He was grateful, but lonely. He missed Bones, the one man he could talk to about anything. He missed Scotty’s enthusiastic behavior toward engineering in starships, he missed Chekov’s cute little Russian accent and energetic youth. He missed Spock’s logical reasoning, the way he misunderstood common jokes and always complicated simple issues with his Vulcan upbringing. He missed Uhura’s sarcastic comments and sass while she insulted him in five different languages.

But most of all he missed his ship. The _Enterprise_ was the one thing he could always come back to, his home among the stars. He remembered every nook and cranny, every corridor, the sounds she made, the warp core’s precise positioning and structure. He would often find himself in the wrong section of his new ship, thinking he was back on the _Enterprise_. When he walked aimlessly, he found himself searching for the med bay or engineering. The bridge was different. The chair was different.

But it was better than wallowing in a bar, drinking the rest of his life away and fucking anything that walked by. For the first few weeks he practically lived in the small pubs near his apartment, but his libido was stunted. When he tried to flirt with a female, he was reminded of Teeth. When he saw an obviously alien species, he flinched, thinking of Tentacles. When he saw a man, a handsome man, a darkly dressed man, any human male within his vicinity, he thought of Khan.

Of course, he thought of Khan a lot. When he dreamed, when he showered, when he observed the newest recruits training, when he walked past the damage still being reconstructed due to the augment’s destruction…

His face was everywhere, phantom touches lingered on his skin, and that voice was always whispering in his ear. Kirk couldn’t sleep. New nightmares plagued him, Khan’s brutal death flashing before his eyes. When he awoke, the space next to him on the bed was empty.

* * *

 

_You want a revelation_  
 _You want to get it right_  
 _And it's a conversation_  
 _I just can't have tonight_

Kirk knew the minute the alarms went off. They echoed his rescue, bringing back memories of his final moments with Khan. Federation officers scrambled, horrified at the sight of the starship they thought had vanished, destroyed, never to return. Nobody knew what to do, what they were facing, what to expect. Nobody except Kirk. As soon as he heard the word _Vengeance_ he ran.

Khan was back.

Khan wanted revenge.

Starfleet headquarters was filled with screams as the attacks came. The city of San Francisco was desolated. There was only one place to go. Some officers, including the captain who was his only friend in the world, followed him. They knew, instinctively, where he was going and what he would do. They would either stop him…or join him. Kirk wasn’t sure which outcome to expect, nor did he know how he would actually react, but he knew one thing. He had to go. He had to see his master one more time.

* * *

Khan walked out of the ship with some of his crew, who were armed and immediately began taking out Federation members around them. He strode casually, trusting in his crew to cover him, occasionally knocking someone out of the way. He kept his eyes on the place where they first met, unofficially. He knew Kirk would be there waiting for him. He entered the building and walked past the confused guards, smiling at the way they ran around like headless chickens. Did they really think it was that easy to get rid of him? He was _better_ at everything, even dying…even surviving.

“He just walked in! We don’t know what to do, we need backup a.s.a.p.!” a guard yelled into the com device before his face contorted, dropping to the ground. Khan stood in the middle of the room, instantly surrounded by more guards and Federation officers, pointing their weapons at him. He was calm, unfazed by the harmless threat. He was here for one reason.

* * *

  _You want a revelation_

_Some kind of resolution_

_You are the revelation_

 Kirk ran into the room, followed by the others. He stopped when he saw Khan standing there. His breathing was abnormal, gasping for air, but soon slowed. He took a few steps forward, movements precise, eyes focused on the man before him.

“It’s your call, sir.” One of the guards told him, indicating the weapons pointed at Khan. The group looked at him, waiting. He hesitated.The captain who came to his rescue, refusing to leave his side since that day, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You can do it, Kirk.” He whispered, putting a phaser in his hand.

Kirk considered pulling the trigger for all of two seconds. He knew he couldn’t go through with it. He almost lost Khan once and it was the biggest regret of his miserable life. No matter what the man did to him, Kirk would always love him.

“Give us a minute.” He said in a low tone. The guards glanced to each other but backed down, exiting the room. The other captain remained only to give Kirk a small nod before leaving. Khan and Kirk stared at each other in silence, the words left unspoken hanging in the air between them.

_And I'd do anything to, to make you stay  
Tell me what you want me to say_

“You should leave now, before I change my mind. Just go, and no one will come after you.” Kirk spoke, voice strained.

“Come with me.” Khan answered, his deep voice eliciting goose bumps on Kirk’s arms. It was confident, calm, smooth.

“Why?” Kirk asked, breathless, curious as to what he would say. Would he go as a prisoner, or as a lover?

“We’re going to populate a colony, and I want you by my side.” Kirk realized what Khan meant: His crew was awakened, his original plan back in action. “I was always going to make this happen, Kirk, you know that. Everything I did was for my family, every second moved toward this inevitable conclusion. The only thing to change was you.”

Was this a confession?

“What would I be to you? Still a slave?” Kirk croaked. He was considering Khan’s offer. He was torn, unable to function properly in regular society ever again, but knowing Khan’s full intentions. He knew if he went with Khan he’d lose everything, but if he stayed at Starfleet he’d just be a shell of his former self. It was the same feeling he dealt with when asked to become a civilian or rejoin Starfleet.

Die alone, or die surrounded?

Try to survive, or allow himself to wither away?

There would be no going back from this moment. His final decision would either end or begin with three little words.

_But would you leave me_  
 _If I told you what I've done_  
 _And would you leave me_  
 _If I told you what I've become_

Either way he would lose, he realized. If Khan got away, his career with Starfleet would be over. Everyone would know Kirk refused to kill him, he would become a traitor not only to the human race but also of the Federation. They would never let him live it down. He would have to flee, hunted down like a dog to come to an eventual end. Running, forever running. It didn’t suit him.

If he killed Khan, he would be declared a hero of the universe. They would promote him, honor him, and celebrate his victory. But they wouldn’t be able to ignore the pain in his eyes, the regret he would feel. He didn’t want to be the one to put Khan down. He couldn’t. Life would be needless, unnecessary, if he took out the one thing that made him _feel_. Khan was a monster, but he was Kirk’s monster. He would sooner put a bullet in his own head than see the man fall.

Khan took a step forward. “What do you want to be to me?” he asked, softly. “Tell me how to convince you.” A hand reached up to cup Kirk’s cheek, fingers gentle as they rubbed the skin.

“Tell me what I want to hear. You know exactly how to convince me. If you truly wanted me with you, it wouldn’t be hard.” Kirk answered in a whisper.

“You ask for the one thing I simply cannot give.”

_'Cause it's so easy_  
 _To sing it to a crowd_  
 _But it's so hard, my love_  
 _To say it to you, all alone_

“Then how do you expect me to believe you?” Kirk asked. Why couldn’t Khan just say what he wanted to hear?

“Kirk.” Khan took a step forward, closing the distance between them and bringing his other hand up to hold Kirk’s face. “What do you want? I won’t force you into anything you’re unwilling to do. I want you to make the decision.” His voice was tender for once. His eyes were caring and warm. There was no deception or manipulation in the curve of Khan’s mouth. He truly wanted Kirk to decide. Whether it was a way to escape any consequences of such a decision, or because he actually cared about what his pet wanted, Kirk couldn’t tell.

Jim thought about what he truly wanted. He knew the decision, because he made it a long time ago. When he realized his crew was dead, the only thing he ever wanted was to join them. If Khan couldn’t love him, there was no point in carrying on this charade.

“I want you to end it.” He said, looking into Khan’s eyes. “I want you to complete your revenge.”

Khan’s expression tightened, along with the hands pressing against the side of Kirk’s face. “Are you sure? Do you know what you’re asking?”

“You asked me what I wanted. This is what I want.” It was their last chance. Khan could admit it right here and now, truly end his revenge, and Kirk would go with him anywhere. Or he could finish what he started all those years ago.

Khan sighed. Kirk’s gaze never wavered. One last chaste kiss was placed on his forehead, lingering as both their eyes closed to savor the moment, before Khan’s grip was repositioned. He met no resistance as his hands moved, twisting, and the crack of breaking bone resounded throughout the room, the loudest sound he ever heard.

Kirk’s body crumpled to the ground.

_No light, no light in your bright blue eyes_

_I never knew daylight could be so violent  
_

Regret filled him the instant his hands snapped the slender neck of his once lover. He wanted to turn back time to see those bright blue eyes, alive, staring at him again. In that moment he knew who truly achieved revenge in the end. In that moment Khan realized he loved Captain James Tiberius Kirk.

_A revelation in the light of day  
You can choose what stays and what fades away_

His crew found him kneeling over the body, tears dripping from his eyes, a weapon in his hands. They reached out to him. He looked at them longingly. This was what he wanted all along: his crew back, his family restored, and Kirk out of the way. But the price of his desires was too high, even for him. He contemplated joining his lover in oblivion. He would only carry out his plans half-heartedly from now on. What did it prove? He turned once more to his people, holding their gazes. They were his family. He would find solace in their presence, and after a time…he would get over it. _  
_

_And I'd do anything to make you stay_  
 _No light, no light_  
 _Tell me what you want me to say_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Had to see that coming. I told you there would be no happy ending. But don’t hate me, my lovelies, there is still more! Of course, an epilogue is in order, and…who knows what else? Please let me know what you thought, as well as any suggestions for future pieces. The story is never over.~


	3. Had Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue: Had Enough
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the music of Breaking Benjamin, nor the characters or plot pertaining to Star Trek.
> 
> Warning: Mentions of implied sexual themes. Prepare for a Feels Fest.
> 
> This chapter is also going to be different when it comes to the lyrics: they are sung from Kirk’s perspective for the first half, Khan’s from the next, oft times switching up. Again, trust me. Some of the flashbacks or stories Khan tells were provided or inspired by my wifey, Petra Jade.

_Milk it for all it’s worth_

_Make sure you get there first_

_The apple of your eye_

_The rotten core inside!_

Khan took one last look at Kirk’s lifeless body—avoiding the glazed over, dull eyes—before rising. His back was straight, fists tight, jaw clenched. He nodded to his crew, who marched forward to open the door. The surprised and confused Starfleet officers stared as Khan, not Kirk, emerged from the room. One man looked down at Kirk’s body as the Dark One strode forward, and just as his eyes were lighting up with understanding, Khan stuck his knuckles through his skull.

Shouts of alarm were ended quickly in a similar fashion by his crew as they kept moving forward. They laid waste to the Federation Headquarters, destroying everything in sight. This wasn’t about pleasure. This wasn’t about vengeance.

This was obliteration.

As the Admiral cowered before him, Khan could only think of Marcus, and how his face looked squished beneath his fingertips.

_And of Kirk, how his fingers massaged into Khan’s back, kneading the knots loose. After a hard day’s work, sitting at his desk and finishing yet another experiment, he would feel those fingers ghost over his shoulder blades, digging into his skin to soothe the aching muscles he got from time to time. No words were needed, Kirk’s touch did all the talking._

Khan snarled and shot his phaser at the leader’s head. As blood, bone, and brain tissue splattered against the back wall, he turned to finish off whoever was left. He didn’t just want to dominate Starfleet, he wanted to _end them_.

They took what he loved away from him. They took the one thing that could have brought him happiness and turned it against him. Kirk wanted to die because he had no other choice—according to _them_ , according to what he thought they would say or do—but he had any other choice than this. They could have been happy together.

Instead one of them was dead, lying cold on the floor of a deteriorating building, while the other was crushing any opposition to his future plans. What he was going to do all along, no matter what got in the way, the satisfaction he was going to receive, was mud in his veins. It wasn’t the same with Kirk dead this way, it wasn’t the same with what he knew he could have had.

He walked through the halls, through the desolation he wrought, with steel eyes boring ahead.

“Please! Please let me live! I’ll do anything you ask, I’ll give you information, tell you anything you want to know! Just please don’t kill me!” a red shirt cried. One of Khan’s crew had him by the scruff of his neck, holding him there on his knees, phaser pointed at his head. The nearby crew looked up to their leader.

“We take no prisoners.” He told them in his cold voice, not even looking as the phaser went off and the red shirt fell, missing a portion of his face.

_We are all prisoners_

_Things couldn’t get much worse_

_I’ve had it up to here_

_You know your end is near!_

Khan was still mourning as the _Vengeance_ shot out into the dark, leaving nothing behind. This would be his last encounter with Earth, and he didn’t even look back. He was done. Done with Starfleet, the Federation, humanity itself. Conquer the world? All he had to do was conquer one man’s heart. Why would he want more?

But he did. He wanted it all. He wanted Kirk to still be alive, to still be in his arms. He wanted his enemies destroyed, his crew by his side, with nothing to stand in their way. He wanted to rule the galaxy, command armies with the snap of his fingers, wipe the weak and useless out of the universe.

But he couldn’t have it all. Kirk was dead, and now he had nothing.

* * *

 "Your orders, Captain?”

His crew stood on the bridge, looking to him for leadership. They saw the pain in his eyes, the hatred, the longing. They knew their plans were changed, but they didn’t know why. What was one man when it came to the entire solar systems?

“We will head to the farthest corner of the universe, find an uninhabited planet, and colonize it.” Khan commanded.

“But what about Earth? Our plans?”

“I have already conquered Earth in one lifetime. I do not need to do it again.” Khan replied, looking his crew in the eyes. “Set. Course.” He hissed.

They reacted quickly, without doubting their captain’s motives. One stayed behind, staring at his leader pensively. “You’ve changed.”

“Yes.”

“What caused it?”

“Many things, Joaquin, many things.”

The man before him smiled. “It takes a long time to get to the farthest reaches of the universe, even in a starship. Why don’t you tell me?”

Khan pursed his lips, determined to forget everything and live his days in numb oblivion. He knew that idea would never hold, though, because there was no way he could ever forget those bright blue eyes staring back at him. He saw them when he closed his own steel ones, because he would never see them again on the other side of his eyelids.

“What would you do if, after enslaving someone for _years_ , you left on a business trip?” Khan asked, to begin his story.

Joaquin shrugged. “Make sure the slave couldn’t escape. Lock them up, if necessary.”

“And what if, trusting this slave enough to leave him behind unfettered, you still expected to come back to an empty house, only to walk through the door and see a pile of your clothing, pillows, and bed sheets with your slave sleeping atop them?”

Joaquin raised his eyebrows. “I seem to be missing something. Why wouldn’t the slave escape? Why would he…sleep amid a body pillow fort and await your return?”

Khan admired the way his crewmember didn’t ask why this was relevant, or what it could all mean. He smiled to himself, then his mouth turned down. “Because of love. I was wary about leaving, because I was never gone for long, and he had made several escape attempts before. I admit the slave enticed me, brought me entertainment, so much so that I didn’t want to give him up. I was worried he would successfully escape—or worse, get caught and killed—while I was away. What I didn’t expect, nor believe until I saw it with my very eyes, was to find him still there, curled up with his arms wrapped around my pillow, a shirt tightly clenched in his hand, and my sheets covering him on the couch—which was moved to the foyer probably after the first night.”

“The slave loved you?”

Khan could sense the ‘why’ hidden in Joaquin’s question. “When I asked, he said he wanted to be surrounded by familiar things while I was away. The pillows, the shirt, even the sheets, were chosen because they _smelled like me_.”

“A bit weird, for a slave, even one who loved you.”

“It was quite…endearing.” Khan said fondly.

His fellow augment nodded. Khan rose and gestured for him to follow, walking down the corridor to his quarters as he told more stories of Kirk, from the very beginning…to the very end.

_You had to have it all_

_Well have you had enough?_

_You greedy little bastard_

_You will get what you deserve_

* * *

During their voyage, Khan and Joaquin—later accompanied by other members of the crew—discussed the adventures their leader had while they were still asleep. He told them of how he was awoken by Marcus to defeat the Klingons and all that entailed, of how Kirk saved the day by putting him back into cryostasis with the rest of them. He also told them how he escaped, bringing them to the slave planet.

“How _did_ you get out of the cryotube, Captain?”

“It was merely an accident, really…” Khan replied nonchalantly, with a hint of a smirk.

“It sounds a bit more than an accident.” Another crewmember smiled. They were all gathered around, a large group covering the floor space of his room.

“Yes, I suppose it was an accident that, knowing they dared not kill me out of cowardice, and would instead decide to put me back to sleep, I hacked into the system and triggered a sequence that would awake me when the time came. A simple fire alarm, probably a safety drill, or perhaps under a real emergency circumstance, would cause my revival. Quite simple, enough to seem harmless if found, unnoticeable otherwise. It wasn’t long before the alarm was tripped and I opened my eyes to see the inside of my cryotube, locked within a secure—though not secure enough—basement with the rest of you.”

“They were still too ignorant to see you coming, I bet, even with their advancements in technology.” A crewmember stated.

Khan nodded in agreement. “Yes, incapable of their true potential. Not like us. They also showed their weakness when placing all of us together. Once I awoke, it was easy to smuggle you out of the facility once I repaired the _Vengeance_. It didn’t take too long, even though I had to sneak around to do so. The vessel was decommissioned, left to rust away in a forgotten facility much like ours. It was monitored as much as it should have been, because they didn’t expect anyone to find it, much less restore it.”

“They didn’t learn from their mistakes, then.”

“Of course not. Marcus would never have awoken me in the first place if they ever learned anything from history.”

“So then you took us to the slave planet. Why not awake us then and take over Earth?”

“We couldn’t stay there, it wasn’t safe. I needed time to make sure our disappearance or the ship’s wasn’t noticed. I wanted our return to be a surprise, unexpected, otherwise they would have been too prepared for us. I also needed time to plan.”

The crew was oddly quiet for a moment. They all wondered why it took so long for their leader to wake them. They understood the danger, but for Khan to do everything himself, to go out alone…it hurt them.

“We could have helped you. With us by your side, none of that would’ve happened. We would be ruling over Earth right now, without that pesky little captain in the way.”

Joaquin noticed the twitch in Khan’s face as he directed his cold gaze to the member who spoke. He was new to the group discussion, and a few murmurs arose from the crowd as they turned to him. Khan leaned forward, and the room went silent.

“That pesky captain has done more for you than you will ever know.” He said quietly, fiercely. “If I had awoken you all the first chance I got, you’re right, we would have destroyed the Federation quickly and efficiently. We would have conquered what was ours, retaken our previous territories, put an end to all opposition. And Kirk would have died. His crew would still be gone and his ship destroyed, although under different circumstances.” Khan paused, looking him in the eye as he leaned back in his seat. “I would not be the person I am right now. I would not know what I do, learned what I did, and understand the profound nature of human bonds. How could a man rule without that knowledge? We were defeated once for a reason. We will not be defeated again.”

“We won’t fight again.” a crewmember snorted.

“We won’t _die_ again.” Khan hissed. “That’s enough of a break today. Go back to your stations, everyone.” He ordered. The crew left without a word.

_When all is said and done_

_I will be the one_

_To leave you in your misery_

_And hate what you’ve become_

* * *

Khan rarely slept, for many reasons. One was because he didn’t need it, another because when he slept, he dreamed. When he dreamed, he saw Kirk, alive again at their old home. He never wanted to wake up from those dreams, and every time he did he grew more resentful of what he did. It wasn’t the torture he dreamt about, not the pain he caused his pet, but the small little moments they shared.

_“You’re always cold.” Kirk whined, snuggling up to Khan’s back._

_“You’re the one who insists on cuddling.” Khan remarked blandly, shifting to find a more comfortable position._

_“I don’t like to sleep alone.”_

_Khan turned to glance at his pet, whose face was buried in between his shoulders, and wondered what that mumbled sentence meant. There were various reasons for not wanting to sleep alone: safety, warmth, comfort, and old habits among them. Khan was curious which one was Kirk’s reason, or if it was a combination._

_“You’ll have to warm me up, I suppose.” Khan whispered, hoping Kirk was already asleep. He felt those lips curve into a smile as his response._

Khan’s eyes flew open. The space next to his bed was empty and cold.

Sighing, he rubbed his face and stood. He went about his routine as if it were any mundane task, trying not to think of Kirk with every move he made. It was pathetic of him to look at his shower and imagine the two of them together in it, but the images wouldn’t stop. Memories flooded his mind, unfiltered and unstoppable. All he could do was bear it.

It got easier with time, with the presence of his crew, planning their colonization and bringing up the past where they were from. Remembering the wars brought back the yearning to protect his crew, his family. Kirk was just one man, but he had eighty-four brothers and sisters under his care at one point. Now that they were down to seventy-two, they were closer than ever. Some agreed Kirk would have been a good ally to have, or at least someone good for the captain to have around; but others disagreed, believing he would only be a distraction, a nuisance who would plot to overthrow them, still loyal to his Starfleet.

Khan didn’t believe Kirk would ever betray him. Despite the hatred he saw after Kirk learned of his crew’s demise, of his ship’s destruction, not once did the former captain scheme against him. They differed in that aspect. Khan immediately sought revenge when he thought his family was murdered. Kirk just wanted to join them.

At least one of them achieved their goal.

Khan punched the mirror, hating the reflection staring back at him. Removing his fist from the glass, the shattered remains was a better representation for what he was now. He wanted to hate his pet for making him feel this way, for making him fall in love. It was impossible. He never hated Kirk. He always admired the captain, respected him, even though he was sometimes annoying. Kirk was too human. Khan was too alien.

_Intoxicated eyes_

_No longer live that life_

_You should have learned by now_

_I’ll burn this whole world down!_

* * *

“So how did you escape the planet’s destruction?”

They were back in his room. At first he refused to tell them any more about Kirk, despising the questions and the memories brought up, but he couldn’t stay mad at them for long. It helped him to talk about it, to analyze and explain what happened, so he didn’t rely on emotion alone. Everything was a calculated move, always had a purpose, and was meant for something.

“I found you.” Khan answered. “I had to get you out, and that was all the motivation I needed in order to survive.” He shrugged. It was easy for him to believe the safety of his crew inspired him to defy catastrophic odds, but he could tell it wasn’t enough for them. “The cryotubes were placed in an underground system of tunnels and basements, mostly used for storage of rare goods because it was difficult to break into—but not impossible. Even through the wreckage of the buildings around me, I was still able to find an entrance. Once I located you, to make sure you were still thee and safe, I found the _Vengeance_ and beamed you all aboard. I used the weapons to blast through the tunnels and make a port to leave out of, and was able to warp away as the planet exploded. There was some damage, of course, which was when I awoke you, to help make repairs and pay Earth our final visit.”

“You’re faster than before, at least more than I remember.” A crewmember spoke up.

“I was waiting for the opportune moment to escape, learning the maps and devising a plan. It was only a matter of time before they would betray me—or I, them.”

“You didn’t trust them, yet you left us in their care?”

“I didn’t trust the Klingons, yet I escaped to Qo’noS when I had nowhere else to go.”

“That didn’t end well either. Are we doomed?”

Khan looked at their faces, worried and curious as to what would come next in their lives. “Not anymore.”

“Do you miss him?”

Once again silence reigned in the room. Khan’s body was tight, hands gripping the chair, back rigid. “What do you think?” he asked calmly. If he said yes, Khan would be weak. If he said no, he would be little more than a machine. There was no right answer, only the truth.

“I think you regret every day of being here without him.” Joaquin answered when the crew remained quiet. Khan looked over to him. “But I also think you did what you had to do, under the circumstances. You can think over every decision you could have made and its consequences, or you can move forward. If it was just you—if we never survived, and you were left alone—you could spend an eternity mourning. But you have us now, so there’s no point in dwelling in that part of your past.”

Khan narrowed his eyes, but had to see the wisdom behind his friend’s words. “You’re right. I have gone on far too long thinking about him, neglecting all of you in the process.”

“But I like your stories.” Another member spoke. They turned to her and she hesitated. “Well, it sounds like you were…happy. That’s all we want, to see you happy. You want us to have a life worth living, and we want the same for you.” They nodded in agreement.

“Do you want to hear more?” Khan asked them.

“Always, captain.” Joaquin replied.

Khan told them everything. He explained the situation with Tentacles, how he thought he was too late until Kirk began to recover, how he would sometimes use the former master against his pet when he was feeling especially vicious. He told them about the next time Kirk and Tentacles were in the same room together, how satisfying the kill was, how much his pet had changed over the years. They were in awe at what the other alien species were capable of, but mostly of what their captain put his pet through and the results thereof. They couldn’t believe a slave would come to love his master after all of that.

But with every negative memory came a positive one, and slowly they knew why Kirk was so desperate to hear those three words from his master.

_I need some peace of mind_

_No fear of what’s behind_

_You think you’ve won this fight_

_You’ve only lost your mind!_

* * *

When they finally reached a suitable planet, months after crippling the Federation, there wasn’t much time for stories about the pet. The crew got to work building up a colony for them to live in, scavenging the planet for useful resources and deadly predators to be aware of. It was a rough start, even for them, but soon they learned how to survive on what they called Ceti Alpha V.

It was made easier by the fact that they wouldn’t be pursued by Starfleet, at least not for a while. Earth’s defense force would have to rebuild itself from scratch, which left no room for renegade missions based on vengeance for their fallen members. Khan and his crew made sure to patrol the area, just in case the Federation called on their allies to help track them down, or a rogue captain went out seeking revenge. They also monitored the airwaves and communications links, listening for news of Starfleet’s revival, although it was difficult to discern much of anything through the interference, since they were so far away. They only got snippets at best, static at worst.

But Khan _did_ catch something on the intercom, something he dreaded to hear, yet hoped for anyway. It was bittersweet, yearning for it only to question whether he really wanted to know, but eventually it was pointless to fight the inevitable.

“…the anniversary of Captain James Tiberius Kirk’s death…” the intercom sparked.

Khan sat back, placing a hand over the device inserted into his ear. The crew noticed the subtle shift and turned to him expectantly.

“News, sir?” Joaquin asked. In response, Khan broadcasted the link throughout the entire ship. The few workers who remained, choosing recon over other menial chores on the planet’s surface, stopped and looked up to the speakers in awe. Those on the planet’s surface would also be able to hear the report, if they were tuned in to the right channel on their radios. Because they were needed to communicate between the _Vengeance_ and the colony, most people kept them on. The ones who did glanced at their devices, pausing in their work to listen.

“…Captain Kirk led a haphazard, yet commendable life as a young officer of Starfleet. Proving his worth multiple times, yet showing how reckless and impulsive he could be, made for an interesting Captain once he gained dominion over the _U.S.S. Enterprise_.” The newscaster reported. It was hard to hear, fading in and out at times, fuzzy at the best quality, but Khan absorbed everything. “Sadly, his career fell shortly after one of his greatest victories. Defeating the greatest enemy of the universe, Khan Noonien Singh, took its toll on the young captain. From reports still under supervision, and rarely released to the public, it has been made known that Captain Kirk was kidnapped while on a mission investigating the disappearance of several Starfleet officers and civilians around a certain planet…”

The report cut out and Khan clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut until the speaker’s voice returned. “…when he was finally returned back to Earth, thanks to the rescue efforts of the largest mission the Federation has ever put on. However, the _Enterprise_ was destroyed soon after his capture, and although the reason is unknown, some put the blame on Khan, who may have escaped with the rest of his crew during that fateful time. His whereabouts are still unknown, although some believe he is dead…”

The crew smiled at this, beginning to congratulate themselves until Khan put a hand up to silence them. The report wasn’t over.

“Captain Kirk wasn’t demoted from his position, and instead was given a new ship after therapy. The late Admiral and several other high-ranking officials believed he was still a capable starship captain and deserved another chance.” Khan smiled at this. Yes, Kirk was exceptional in his role as a captain, and could have been the greatest Starfleet had ever known. “Tragically, Khan made another violent return to finally settle his score with Starfleet, lasting over centuries, which ended with the young captain’s untimely death. Only a few survivors were left to share their stories of seeing the _Vengeance_ once again, the horrors of watching Khan and his crew utterly destroy Federation Headquarters, leaving Captain Kirk behind in the rubble.”

Khan slammed a fist into the desk, damaging some of the circuitry. The communication link spurted under his wrath. They were blaming him. They were calling him a murderer once again, but this time…

Kirk wanted it, he begged for it. It was suicide, with Khan’s assistance; a mercy killing. Not murder. He would _not_ be known for taking the life of James T. Kirk. It was Starfleet’s fault in the first place. _They_ killed their beloved captain, not him!

His crew quivered, watching his rage. One moved to switch the link to another source but Khan gripped his wrist so tight it nearly broke. “No,” he growled. “I want to hear _more_.”

“Today we celebrate the…deeds of Captain James Tiberius Kirk…announced it to be International Kirk Day…Starfleet is hosting…party in his honor…parades in the streets…the citizens mourn for their loss…yet the true nature of that brave man…lives on.”

Khan felt tears pool in his eyes, cold and wet as they slid down his cheek and onto the busted console beneath him. His crew barely dared to breathe around him. Joaquin finally moved, switching on the ship-wide communicator from the Captain’s Chair.

“Let us all have a moment of silence, to mourn the loss of Captain James Tiberius Kirk.” He spoke, looking at his captain who stared, mouth open.

The entire colony, all of Khan’s crew, obeyed. They all heard the stories of their captain and his pet. They all knew what this meant to their leader and friend. Whether they agreed about Kirk or not, they knew to respect his life, in honor of their own captain.

When the moment was over, Khan whispered, “Thank you.”

_Hold me down (I will live again)_

* * *

In the years to follow, Khan’s bitterness grew faint until the only thing left to remind him of his past were the moments with Kirk he cherished. Once the colony was settled and his crew began to live a happier life, marriages and children became abundant. Khan chose not to take a partner or produce heirs, knowing he could never feel the same way for someone as he did for Kirk. However, he enjoyed entertaining the children of his crew with stories of their love—keeping out the more vulgar bits, of course.

These stories were especially useful in teaching lessons to the young members of his crew, his family, when they became rowdy with rebellion. When parents were complaining that their children refused to do their chores, Khan had the perfect moment to share.

“There was a time when my…worker,” Khan always had a hard time deciding what to call his pet in front of the children, “didn’t do any of his chores either.”

“Did you punish him?” one child asked. “My mom wanted to punish me.” she added.

“Not quite. He learned on his own.” Khan grinned, telling them the tale.

_“What did you do today?” Khan asked as he entered their home, seeing a complete mess instead of the usual pristine surroundings._

_“…watched TV.” Kirk replied, eyes still glued to the screen._

_“Did you clean?”_

_“No.”_

_“Did you make dinner?”_

_“No.”_

_Khan paused, looking around for signs of food wrappers. “…did you even eat?”_

_His pet took a while to respond, either because he was engrossed with his TV or felt ashamed of his answer. “………no……”_

“And then, his stomach grumbled so loud we both had to share a laugh!” Khan exclaimed and the children giggled. “After that, he never forgot to cook lunch _or_ dinner, because he hated being hungry and rushing around the kitchen. I had to restrict his TV viewing sessions, but eventually he was able to do his chores without getting distracted, and the reward was a movie or favorite TV show when he was done.”

“So if we do our chores, we get a reward?” another child asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

“It’s up to each of your parents, but I suggest that method. Wouldn’t you want to do your chores if you knew you could play with friends after?” Khan replied.

“Yes!” most of the kids responded energetically. Khan smiled, watching them all run to their parents to ask for a reward. He gave them a sheepish look, but was glad to give them something to learn.

When they were gone, Khan reminisced about the rest of that encounter with his pet, picking up where he left off—for the children’s sake.

_Khan sighed. “What are you good for then?” It was a light tease, rare for him, but it relieved some of the tension he felt coming off of his pet._

_“You know what I’m good for.” Kirk winked and wiggled his eyebrows at him in response._

_“You’re useless.” Khan scoffed._

_“So put me to use.” Kirk made some more suggestive gestures._

_Khan gave a long, exasperated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, smiling despite himself._

Khan held that same smile, mouth a bit crinkled, the creases on his forehead remaining long after the smile was gone. He found even augments could age.

_Hold me down (I will break it in)_

* * *

On cold, lonely nights, there was one memory Khan held onto deeply. It wasn’t the most pleasant, but he cherished it above all the others. He remembered every aspect of the memory, as if reliving it each time. His senses were alive once again with Kirk’s touch, smell, taste, even the way he sounded. Out of all of them, this memory was the most vivid.

Ironic, due to the nature of the moment. It was the day when Khan finally marked Kirk as his own, claiming him so no other slavers would dare touch him. Their most intimate experience…

_Kirk was wary. He was always like that, doubting Khan’s motives in fear of being disappointed, but eventually he trusted his master. This look of wariness was different. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with this—if he would even survive—but what it would mean…_ that _he doubted most of all._

_“Are you…sure?” his pet whispered._

_“Yes.” Khan whispered back. Before he got too sentimental, his own wariness surfaced. “It’s common among long-time masters and pets. Even when the slave is first bought, a claiming ceremony is performed to ensure no one else will try to mark their territory. Besides, none of the others will touch you after this, because they will know you belong to me.”_

_“So that’s it? Just another thing to remind me I’m your slave?” Kirk hissed. Khan could see the pain in his eyes._

_“You are_ mine _, Kirk.” The augment purred, coming closer to cup the other man’s cheeks. “And I…am yours. We’ve known this for a while now, haven’t we? It is time we showed everyone else.”_

_Kirk was still unsure, searching Khan’s eyes for any amount of deceit. When he found none, he was only more confused. Waiting for his pet’s consent, Khan was relieved when Kirk finally nodded his head._

_The master captured the pet’s lips with his own, reminding himself to be gentle. He didn’t want any negative connotations about this ritual. What he didn’t tell Kirk was how much he wanted this for himself, how much he never realized he would want this with anyone._

_Removing their clothing was slower than usual, more sensual, stalling for what would come. Kirk had no idea what Khan would do to him, what kind of mark he would give and leave behind. Humans rarely left physical marks on each other to claim ownership, not like aliens and other animals did. The only evidence usually took the form of rings._

_But slaves? They could be marked with tattoos, permanent scars, bruises, even brands made with hot iron instruments. Khan was violent by nature, taking the rougher track out of habit. They both saw slaves marked and claimed by their masters, some by barbaric means, and others in accordance to the mating rituals of each species. The mystery was enough to set them both on edge._

_But Khan had a plan. He knew what he wanted to do. It wouldn’t be a ring, because most creatures only recognized marks left on the skin, to be seen at all times and no way to remove it. They were supposed to be permanent, lasting even unto death. A ring could be taken off. The indent or coloration left behind could fade over time._

_Scars could be covered up, and with today’s medical technology practically erased. Brands were for cattle and sheep, not pets._

_Khan amused himself at one point by considering a collar for Kirk, equipped with a leash when necessary. But that too could be taken off and destroyed._

_Carving into his skin would be painful and bloody. Kirk wouldn’t appreciate the process nearly as much as Khan would._

_Khan remembered back in his time, when it was common for a guy to give his girl the famous letter jacket when they decided to go steady. Khan’s long black coat would barely suffice._

_Kirk was tense, waiting, nervous for what was to come. He never expected what Khan’s final decision would be. His neck was being teased by his master’s tongue as he sucked on the sensitive flesh, teeth nipping lightly._

_“I’m going to scream if you don’t just do it now.” Kirk huffed._

_“It is already done.” Khan murmured, lifting his head to stare down at his pet. The confused expression amused him. He rubbed the hickey he left, smiling._

_“Seriously?”_

_“What did you think I was going to do to you?”_

_“Something…painful?”_

_Khan shook his head, sighing as he kissed Kirk, feeling him relax beneath him. “But a hickey is much more pleasurable…and can be permanent.”_

_“Only if you do it all the time.”_

_“That’s the plan.”_

Khan wished he would have told Kirk in that moment the truth about how he felt. If only he could have uttered those three simple words, instead of hiding the truth, maybe the outcome would be different. It was too late to dwell on that now, however.

_Hold me down (better in the end)_

* * *

Khan was getting tired. The Federation gave up on trying to find him and enact their revenge. They chose instead to focus on the positive aspects of the tragedies he committed, making Captain Kirk their example of humanity, lifting him high over any disasters. It was painful to hear about Kirk that way, dead and remembered for his brilliance, although it made him proud of his pet’s accomplishments. It would have been worse if Kirk was forgotten, never acknowledged for all he did.

Still, he felt lonely. Old. His body wasn’t being used for its purpose, so it functioned on a half-hearted basis. So did Khan. He put everything he could into the colony, his crew, their future…but it wasn’t enough. He felt empty. His days were made up of mere memories of days long past.

Kirk’s death was slowly eating away at him. His crew could tell. They watched him rot from the inside out, decaying bit by bit, wishing to rejoin his lover in the afterlife. He didn’t have the spark, the savagery, the vengeance burning in his eyes like he used to. He refused to conquer. He was sleeping more often.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair _and feeling the way Kirk’s fingers brushed along his scalp._

Khan blinked, getting up to take a shower before bed. He never took baths, for some reason, although forgot the reason why.

Maybe it was because, as he stepped inside the shower, _he felt someone else’s hands smoothing his hair back with the water’s flow. Someone else rubbing soap through the strands, massaging his temple until he was completely relaxed._

Khan’s eyes brightened as the memory overtook him.

_“You look stressed.” Kirk murmured._

_Khan could feel it in his shoulders, but refused to acknowledge it._

“I am stressed.” He whispered into the spray overhead.

_“Here, let me draw you a bath.”_

_“I don’t need one.” Khan grumbled, staring into his microscope defiantly._

“Please…” Khan closed his eyes.

_“No, but it would help you relax.” Kirk smiled. Reluctantly, Khan left his work and followed Kirk to the bathroom. He undressed slowly as the water rose in the tub, then sank indignantly down._

_“Well?”_

“Well?” he repeated without thinking.

_Kirk smiled, then squeezed some shampoo into his hands, lathering it up and working it into his master’s scalp. Khan laid his head back against the rim, his body sinking further beneath the water. He allowed Kirk to wash his hair, lifting his head to get to his neck and around his ears, gently pushing it beneath the water, never once thinking Kirk would try to drown him._

It was a sweet, simple moment. Even now, his body relaxed like it did whenever Kirk did something like that for him. Opening his eyes and seeing the reality around him, he wished they could have grown old together, with just these little moments to keep them going.

_Hold me down!_

* * *

One day Khan didn’t wake up.

Joaquin was the one to find him, feeling the need to check up on their leader after not hearing from him for a few days. He found the old conqueror in bed, curled toward the empty space next to him and reaching out as if someone else was there. 

_Heaven help you!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: And that, dearies, as they say, is that. This is the last chapter for this fic, but not the last in the series. Look out for more adventures featuring Master!Khan and Pet!Kirk soon! If there are any prompts for domestic fluff, awkward crack, or whatever that you would like to see, leave them in a review!


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